


Happy for Us

by ShyCourage



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7942012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyCourage/pseuds/ShyCourage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short, fluff filled High school AU. My first fic, so please try to excuse the many mistakes I am bound to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hetalia characters do not belong to me. I won't be posting regularly, and I plan to do another fic in this same world. It will be substantially longer.

"Please, please don't let me be late," a French man prayed to some unknown God. His shoulder length blond hair waved frantically to and fro as he ran to his next class. He was about two-thirds of the way there, and quite sure he'd make It on time, when the bell rang. "Oh, merde!" When he finally got to class, he completely forgot what seat was his. The kid he sat in front of pointed to his seat, and was rewarded with that " oh, praise the lord, you are the best person ever, please let you live to 180 and have a happy life and may the lord smile down on you and you are my savior" glance that Francis was getting better and better at handing out.

"Francis Bonnefoy?" Mrs. Rosenberg, the English teacher, called.  
  
"Oui. Here, but it is bhon-ne-fuah, not bon-foy."

She looked up, seemingly surprised. "Oh, yes. You recently moved here from France, did you not?"

He blushed, not used to being put on the spot. "Oui," he finally responded.

"Ah, well. Please, mister Bonefouy, do not make a habit of coming to class late." She winked, and he blushed, looking away. Thankfully, his day was almost over. The amount of times his name was getting butchered was unbearable, even if this was only his third day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis finally meets Arthur!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess I'm updating today? Enjoy, please!

The bell rang. Finally. Francis was positive that the teacher was hitting on him (despite her being what, fifty? And he was only fourteen), and most of what she said made zero sense. Like, what even is an adverbial watchamacallit?  
He had just about picked up his stuff when the dark-haired kid behind him muttered, "Uh, Francis, right? I think that Arthur wants to talk to you. You can't miss him, he has a British accent and blond hair and green eyes."

"Oh. Okay, merci,... uh?"

"Honda Kiku, but please, call me Kiku."

"Ah. Merci, Kiku." Francis wondered what this was about. He had just walked out the door when he spotted Arthur. Kiku was right, he was hard to miss, with the rainforest green of his eyes, and the slightly ruffeled blond hair, but the one thing that Kiku forgot to mention was the thick bushes that were his eyebrows. Of course, Arthur managed to pull off the look.

"Hey, you looked kind of lost back there," the boy said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Francis' shoulder tightened. "Oui. And?"

Arthur blinked, then smiled. "You live in town, right? Would your folks mind you coming over to my place after school? I could explain it."

"U-um, I'll text them now." He was amazed when his phone beeped immediately after he sent the message. "Non, they do not mind. Merci- erm, that is to say-"

"I know that merci means thank you. I took French 1 last semester," Arthur said with a trace of a ghostly smile still on his face."Go grab your stuff and meet me in the main lobby. I'll lead you to my flat. Trust me, it's close."


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Francis had gotten to the main lobby, most of the school had cleared out. He was amazed to find that Arthur had waited for him, even if he looked more than a little annoyed.

"I'm sorry, mon ami. I still can't get a hold of how that so-called 'lock' works."

"Well, you'll get used to it. Come on, let's get to my flat."

As they walked, Francis took in the scenery. The town was quaint.. and quiet. There wasn't the hustle and bustle of Paris at all. A few school kids were walking home, and a grand total of a whole ONE car passed by. The sky wasn't exactly dark-- but it was highly overcast. The sunlight leaked through a gray carpet of clouds, and the trees were tossed about by a light breeze. The houses were small, the birds chirping all around them.

When they finally reached Arthur's 'flat', Francis was dumbfounded. He had his own house, and that was a start, but it was tiny.

"Alright. Now, mum's not home yet. You want to avoid my dad, he's probably drunk, and when he gets drunk, he'll never leave you alone. Also, please ignore the smell of cigarette smoke. Okay?"

"Oui..'

Arthur opened the door and held it for Francis. They both stepped into the house, and Arthur led Francis down a hallway, stating, "Come on. This is the way to my room." He paused, then cursed. "Mum won't be back until the morning, dad won't cook, and I CAN'T cook. You should actually leave in time for dinner."

"One moment, please.." Francis looked down at his phone. "Seeing as it's Friday, they should let me.. there! I can spend the night!"

"Wai-- what? Why would you--"

"I can cook. Actually, if I couldn't, I'd be in trouble. My parents are always out. Work. And that's why we moved here. So, I'll cook if I can stay over. Are you okay with that?"

"I-I suppose.. but why?"

"You're helping me, so why don't I help you?"

"O-okay.. here.. do you want tea?"

"Do you have coffee?"

"Yeah, but you might want to put your stuff down first."

Francis looked down, surprised that he was still holding his things. He set it down in the far corner of the room, opposite of Arthur's bed. The room was surprisingly neat, despite the disheveled look of the rest of the house.

"Sorry my room's such a mess," Arthur said, almost as an after thought.

"Non, it's not that bad. Besides, clutter is a sign of creativity."

"Oh, of course YOU'D know, mister Francey pants."

Francis sighed. "Just like the black sheep, trying to show me up."

"Hey, Peppe la Pew--"

"Why you--"

Arthur sighed heavily. "come on. I want my tea." He led the other boy into the kitchen and thew two microwavable mugs filled with water into the microwave. While they were warming up, he pulled out one tea packet and one coffee packet. He then pulled out the honey, lemon, milk, and sugar. When the microwave finally beeped, he offered one mug to Francis, who added the coffee along with three spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk (all of which was done with a flourish, earning a scoff from Arthur).

"So.. uh.. this is an awkward question, but do you have like.. a girlfriend?" Arthur looked at Francis, his eyes boring into the other boy.

"Non. You?"

"I.. uh, don't quite swing that way."

"Oh. To be honest; me either. So, a boy friend, then?"

"No. But I should have known that you're homo--"

"No. I am pansexual, actually."

Arthur smiled. "Well, that's good to know. At least you're not straining yourself everytime you wink at a woman."

"You are such a jerk, you know?"

"Pfft. At least I'm not a frog."

"How you say.. touche?"

Arthur looked up at him, surprise written on his face. Francis laughed, happy to have finally surprised the Englishman. "Do you mind me calling you Angleterre? It translates to 'England', but you do remind me of the country."

They both started toward the bedroom before Arthur had an answer.

"Whatever. Hey, I'm gonna practice my needlework if you don't mind. I'll help out with anything you need, though."

"Okay. Sure. Wait.. did you say needlework..?"

Arthur glared at Francis, as if daring him to laugh.

"I can cook, you do needlework, both are interesting and creative. May I see what you're making?" Francis looked at Arthur, who seemed surprised by his actions for the second time that day.

"Well, I suppose," Arthur replies. He gestured for Francis to sit on a beanbag that was by his stuff, and then went to the closet, opened the bottom drawer, and grabbed the small circle that was his canvas and the needle that was his pen. He showed it to Francis.

"Ah, you know that a rooster is the nation symbol of France, no?"

"I do, believe it or not," he muttered, blushing. "your arrival got me thinking about France. I've always.. ah, I've always wanted to go, but could never afford it."

Francis looks at him apologetically, thinking of how the boy would love France. Of course, Great Britain would suit him so much better. "It's very loud, you know," he said, trying to cheer him up.

"Yeah.. well, do you have any questions?"

"Non. It is just a reading assignment, and, believe it or not, I know how to read in English."

"Hm.. well, then, why did you come?"

"Well.. maybe I'm the awkward one. And maybe, just maybe, I wanted a friend."

"Ah.. oh."

Francis smiled at him, and felt a flutter that he vaguely regarded as a crush, but more powerful, like the love at first sight fairytales always harp about.


End file.
